


Gentlemen of Fortune

by kishiriaz



Category: Universal Century Gundam
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Lutheran Guilt, Mecha, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:22:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishiriaz/pseuds/kishiriaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of all my Gundam works, this is my favourite.  It's not necessarily the best, but it's the one I re-read most often.  After leaving Von Braun and Nina Purpleton, Anavel Gato gets a ride to Garden of Thorns from the Cima Fleet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[Author's Notes: I don't own Gundam, as if you didn't know that. I also don't own Gato's wingman; that person is intellectual property of His Divine Shadow. So with no further ado…]

GENTLEMEN OF FORTUNE

 

Anavel Gato stood on the pavement in the early morning gloom, looking up at a dark window on an apartment building. Inside, his erstwhile lover of a year, Nina Purpleton, was deeply asleep. He still had the image of her fresh in his mind from a few minutes ago; tousled blonde hair on the pillow, blanket pulled up over her pale bare shoulders, her face peaceful in slumber. 

He looked down at the dufflebag at his feet. Best not to dwell, he thought to himself. If he lingered, there was the chance that he might go back to her. He picked up the bag and walked a couple of blocks before standing on the curb and hailing a taxi.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked.

Gato fished a paper out of his jacket pocket. “Port of Von Braun, slip 94. I have to be there before 8.”

“Plenty of time.” The cabbie turned on the meter and the car started rolling.

The driver didn't seem inclined to talk, which suited Gato fine. The duffle was heavy on his lap but he didn't want to let it go. As he rode away, he was not only leaving a very emotional year, but his best friend as well as his lover. The friend, Lt. Kelly Layzner, was probably already awake. It was possible he'd never gone to bed. He and Gato had been together since the end of the One Year War, facing homelessness and hardship side by side until Laetura Chapra, the woman who would eventually become Kelly's wife, let them move into her apartment. Leaving Nina gave Gato mixed emotional reactions. True, he loved her, but she was such a workaholic, and unsympathetic to the things that caused him pain, that their separation was more or less necessary if either of them were to stay sane.

The idea of leaving Kelly, though, made Gato's eyes burn with tears. His hands tightened on the bag, which held some photos of the two of them. Someday they would fight together side by side. Kelly was rebuilding a mobile armour in his warehouse. With it he would join the Delaz fleet and they would be comrades in arms once again.

“22 credits, sir,” the cabbie said.

“Oh!” Gato hadn't even realized they'd arrived. He reached into his pocket and gave the man 30 for the speed of the ride, and for leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

Alone on the pavement he told himself, finally. Finally, he was re-joining his people the Jions, and they would soon bring revenge upon the Federation.

Unbidden, the image of the sleeping Nina came back to his mind. Gato shook his head violently and approached the slip.

The man who came to meet him was short and square, with a wide face and curly hair. It was the sort of face that normally was likable, but in this case he emanated untrustworthiness. “Are you the package?” He didn't try to shake Gato's hand.

Gato felt the corners of his mouth twist. “I'm Commander Gato.”

“I'm Kult. That all your luggage?”

“Yes.”

“Then come aboard.” He turned around and led Gato towards the shuttle. Inside, Gato could tell it was the standard kind carried by Jion battleships, despite how it was disguised as a cargo vessel.

“You go back there,” Kult told him before Gato could say any words of greeting to the pilots. He went to where Kult indicated, and found himself in a small cabin containing a bunk, a locker, and nothing else. 

“This'll be home for you for a day or so, until we meet up with the fleet,” Kult told him. “Make yourself comfy.” He shut the door with a slam. Gato snarled and reached for the handle, but found himself locked in.

Panic rose in his chest. Would the Cima fleet really carry him to the Garden of Thorns? He was a respected Jion officer, but he was being treated like a parcel, something being mailed from one place to another. And if the messenger was untrustworthy, the contents of a parcel could be stolen and used....

Gato dropped onto the bunk. It was strongly rumoured that the Cima fleet had gone pirate. He couldn't know for sure; the local packs of pirates working currently didn't leave survivors. He pulled his knees up to his chin. Could he have followed Tetley's instructions to join Delaz only to be kidnapped and held for ransom?

No one told him anything. The ride was only 28 hours, during which time he was fed, watered, and allowed to use the washroom when he called the bridge to ask. Gato had had the foresight to bring some books, and his old King James, which he'd had since the day he left home for the Academy, was always a comfort to him, although reading it did make him miss his parents.

Still, after a long day and night of reading and napping, Kult knocked on his door. “We’re coming up on the Cima Fleet. If you wanna change into uniform, now’s the time.”

Gato nodded. Everyone knew the bloody reputation of Lt. Colonel Cima “the Butcher of Iffish” Garahau. As such, it would perhaps be the wisest thing to meet her in uniform as a sign of respect. 

Not that he minded a chance to get back into his true skin, as it were.

With Kult gone, he opened the plastic box in which his uniform lay. He stripped down to his briefs, then put on the collarless button-down shirt that was standard underneath a Jion uniform. The green trousers were tight in the waist; he’d gained weight during his year with Nina but was confident he could lose it again. He slipped the suspenders over his shoulders and reached for the tunic. Again, it was tight, but as he buttoned the cape and panels to the shoulders and slid on the epaulets, he felt a surge of pride that he hadn’t realized he’d lost in his time as mailroom worker for Anaheim Electronics.

He had to undo his waistband to pull on his boots, but once he finished dressing, he felt like himself again. He remained standing as Kult opened the door.

The squat man looked him up and down. “You’ve been hitting the burritos there, haven’t you, Gato?”

Gato’s eyes narrowed. “You should talk.” 

“Least I’m wearing the same size I was at the beginning of the war. We’ve docked in the Lili Marlene, lead ship of the fleet. Ms Cima’s waiting for you on the bridge.”

Gato stepped past him. “Ms Cima? Don’t you mean Colonel Garahau?”

Kult shrugged. “Whatever. We’re all from Mahal here, and calling a lady Ms plus her first name is always polite there.” His expression suddenly twisted with grief. “Or it was.”

Gato felt a moment of sympathy for the man, then squashed it. They were all exiles now, and if the Mahalians were double exiles because their colony had been made into Giren Zabi’s giant laser, they could at least reflect on the fact that it had gone to strong use against the Federation.

“You need to be shown up to the bridge?” Kult asked.

“I know the layout of a Zanzibar well enough,” Gato told him. “Or is there anything you don’t want me to see?”

“Nah.”

Gato nodded and left the shuttle. He floated a couple of feet over the hangar floor towards the exit hatch.

Signs of poverty were clear, though. The corridors were poorly lit, as more than half the light fixtures were missing fluorescent tubes. The place was clean, but it smelled as if it was being maintained with water and vinegar rather than the usual industrial cleansers. Some hatches and doors were propped open, having broken their mechanisms. The Lili Marlene was not a place he was going to want to occupy for long, even though it seemed her crew was doing their best to keep her functioning. 

The elevator wasn’t working, so he ended up detouring up a staircase to main deck. At this, Gato had to pause for a moment, struck with nostalgia. 

The room clearly saw a great deal of traffic, going by how paths were worn into the burgundy carpeting. They led past a bulkhead paneled in cherrywood, at the centre of which was a round, sculpted white medallion of the fleet’s titulary commander, Kishiria Zabi. The war flag of Jion and Kishiria’s personal standard were on poles on either side of it. Beside those were glass cases holding photographs related to the history of the ship. 

Gato couldn’t resist taking a brief peek at these. There was Degin Zabi, of blessed memory, overseeing the laying of the ceremonial keel. There were a few of the ship being built, then a photo of Kishiria smashing a bottle of champagne over the finished ship’s nose. There was a photo of the crew, including Cima Garahau herself, standing in front of it. 

There were a few more which looked as if they were dated to around the end of 0078. After that, the photos conspicuously stopped. Not much in their past in the way of treasured memories, Gato reasoned. He moved on to some models of the ships of the fleet and was examining those when a woman's voice startled him.

"I come here and reminisce, too."

Gato jumped and turned to look behind him. Cima Garahau was smiling at him, a smug little turn of her lips. The Butcher of Iffish wasn't quite what he'd pictured. She was in early middle age, he could tell, and almost as tall as he was. Black hair fell in a cascade to her hips, framing a face that was classically beautiful except for a chin that was a little too large for perfection. He couldn't tell what kind of body she had since she was draped to her knees in a reddish-brown cloak.

"Colonel Garahau." He bowed slightly and she nodded her head in recognition. "These are fine souvenirs of Jion's happier days, and a reminder of things to come." 

"You can cut the crap, Gato. That sort of line might fly on Axis, but not here. Yes, these are memories of happier days, but those are done. As for what our future will be, I don't know. It doesn't involve Axis. Not for us poor bastards."

"I'm sure that Her Majesty's government could be convinced--"

Cima held up a hand. "We wouldn't necessarily want it to be. What we want now is a home that doesn't move constantly through space is all."

"There's a lot of us in Von Braun."

"Von Braun's not a bad place, but there are just too many of us in this fleet for the one city to handle us. A nice little tropical island would do. But enough of that. Come up to the bridge, I'll introduce you to the crew."

Gato followed her. The door slid open onto a bridge that had been standard, once. Now the command chair was more of a couch, draped in a white tigerskin. Behind the command couch was a large canvas of a stormy sea. 

If the bridge had been made fancier, the crew had not. They were all wearing their uniform tunics open over their undershirts, showing the ID discs that hung around their necks. Sleeves were rolled up or torn out completely. 

"I'll introduce you to the team," she said to Gato. "Here's Shiro Takagawa and Michael Zuzumbe, the operators. Logan Ximenez, communications. And these two fine lads at the wheel are Daryl Fried and Gordon Macmillan. Gentlemen, this is Anavel Gato. He's going to be riding with the fleet for a bit."

Variations of "Hi, Gato!" filled the air.

"And this is my executive officer, Deitrov Kosell," Cima said, dropping down into her seat and gesturing to the man who sat at the side of the dais.

Kosell rose to his feet and Gato wondered how he could have missed him before. While Dozel Zabi had been a much larger man than Kosell, the key word here was that Dozel had been an enormous man. Lt. Kosell came across as being more of a building. He was in his late forties with grey hair and a craggy, aquiline face. Despite his age, his body was made of cabled muscle, displayed by his sleeveless, open tunic worn without a t-shirt beneath. He stepped in between Gato and Cima without saying a word. Even without speech, his message was clear: I am the alpha male. Fuck with my bitch and you die.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Kosell," Gato said.

Kosell grunted.

"So, what are our plans?" Gato said. 

"Our plans are to collect our paycheques," Cima told him, slinging her legs over the arms of her command chair. "I don't know what you have in mind."

Gato's mouth went dry. "I was told you'd be conveying me to the Delaz fleet."

"Oh yes. That. We'll get you there, don't worry, but this is a tramp fleet now, not Federal Express. To reach Delaz we need fuel, water, and food, and we can't just have Kishiria hook us up anymore. You're going to have to be patient."

"Patient? How can I be patient? More than a year I spent in Von Braun, working as a mail clerk, a mail clerk, Garahau, waiting for the time when I could rejoin the fight! Don't make me waste any more time rotting instead of spreading terror among the Feddies!"

Kosell crossed his arms and said in a deep rumble of a voice to Cima, "I think we could put him to work, ma'am."

"I think you might be right, Mr. Kosell." She grinned at Gato. "Get our new recruit a Gelgoog."

"Colonel!" Gato exclaimed.

She looked pensive. "What, you don't want one? I know you'd take care of it. They're priceless at this point; very few exist anymore and none can be replaced."

"I would. I just didn't expect to be taking up arms yet."

"We'll polish the rust off you, don't worry. Mr. Kosell? Could you take Commander Gato to a cabin? I'm sure he'd like to settle in."

"Aye aye, madame Captain."

Gato followed the craggy man to the executive officer's cabin. The front room was an office, as was usual for those of his rank. Before entering, Kosell stopped to touch a small silver tube nailed to the doorframe and raise his fingertips to his lips. Inside, the office was smaller than Cima's would be, with a closed door no doubt leading to Kosell's quarters behind. The man had obviously been there a long time. The desk sported at least one ring stain from a coffee mug and the office chair was worn. There were photos on his desk; Gato was surprised to see Kosell wearing the uniform of a police officer rather than that of a member of the military. He was smiling widely, surrounded by his wife and three teenaged children. 

The Cima fleet had been drifting homeless since the war. It would be hard for Kosell to track down his dispersed family at the best of times, seeing as the citizens of Mahal had been scattered among all the cylinders of Side 3. Now, without any stationary place to call home, it would be near impossible. Gato felt a surge of pity for the man; Gato's parents now knew what had become of him. Kosell likely didn't know what had happened to his family, nor they of him.

Kosell sat at his desk and pulled out a paper file, causing Gato to wonder if the computer on the desk was dead. He paged through it and said, "I'm going to put you on the Vera Lynn. There are three suits on board. And you can have cabin G-9." He wrote this down on a pad of yellow paper which he tore off and handed to Gato. "You know where the shuttle bay is, so go there and get one over to the Vera. I'll call over to the skipper and let her know you're coming. Captain Rosco can handle it from there." He peered up hopefully at Gato again. "You wouldn't happen to be Jewish by any chance, would you?"

"Sorry, I'm Lutheran."

Kosell nodded, and Gato felt as if he'd dashed yet another of this man's hopes. "Our congregation hasn't had minyan--prayer quota--since one of the crew deserted last time we put ashore. You've got a good Hebrew name, so I wondered. Anavel: humble one of God." He sniffed a little. "I can tell it don't suit you, though."

Gato thanked him in a mumble and went to the shuttle deck.

***

Captain Rosco was actually a captain. Her title was not just due to her being mistress of the Vera Lynn. The members of the Cima fleet hadn't given themselves promotions as had some of the Jion remnants, it seemed. While Gato respected and honoured Aguille Delaz with all his being, he had to admit to himself that the auto-promotion to admiral had been somewhat of a show of hubris.

Rosco was in her mid-fifties, tired-looking, and wiry. She seemed rather pleased to meet Gato though on the bridge of her Musai. Both she and her bridge crew were in civilian clothes, eschewing even the worn-out remnants of uniforms. Gato found the effect less unnerving than the sight of Cima's crew, even if it was a little surrealistic. 

He mentioned the surrealism to Rosco, though not that the effect was more calming. To his shock, she laughed a little.

"Well, Cima's Cima and I'm me," she said, gesturing to her long felt skirt, peasant blouse and comfortable shoes. "After the war, I decided against uniforms for my crew. We can't replace them, and I didn't want to have my crew dressed in worn-out clothes. We keep them for certain occasions, but otherwise we found we look neater and feel better in civvies. Besides, I think she just likes knowing she's in command of a bunch of ruffians. I want to keep my crew as happy as possible--and that isn't a lot, I'm afraid."

"Colonel Garahau said that I was to be given a Gelgoog, but she didn't say why."

Rosco sighed. "We need those mobile suits for any number of reasons. We have to run patrols and scouting missions of course. They're also a source of revenue. There's plenty of people out there who like hiring a mobile suit and pilot for whatever evil reason. We aren't living on charity out here, Gato."

He felt his stomach knot.

"You're going to like the pilot I'm giving you as wingman though," she said. "I've been in the Jion forces for 30 years, and I've gotten pretty deft at matching people up that way. You'll meet her in the mobile suit deck. Her name's Isolda Raake."

By now, Gato was starting to feel rather like a ping-pong ball. The good news? He was going to the Delaz fleet. The bad news? Oh, you have to work your way doing some unspecified horror. The good news? You get your own Gelgoog for it. The bad news?

Well, the bad news wasn't going to be his wingman. Isolda Raake was a tall woman in brown corduroy pants and a black turtleneck. Her auburn hair was cut short and her green eyes reflected intelligence and sadness. She moved more athletically than he did, which made him somewhat embarrassed.

"You must be Gato," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "Hope you don't mind working with somebody who hasn't earned her own combat nickname."

"You were good enough to survive the war," Gato said to her. "That alone tells me all I need to know."

"A lot of better pilots than me didn't make it," she told him sadly. "I just got lucky."

Gato rather doubted that, but could tell that she had at least one "better pilot" specifically in mind.

"Anyway, the suit you'll be using is here. Follow me."

She shot a cable over to a Gelgoog in an anonymous grey colour scheme. The cockpit was already open, and they climbed inside. Gato took his place in the pilot's seat and adjusted it for his height. 

"We don't spare any expense on maintaining these things," Raake said to him as she inserted a disk of flight information. "We put in all the resources we can because these last suits are our livelihood."

"No one has been very honest with me on what that livelihood is," Gato said. "I've already figured that it's illegal."

Raake nodded sadly. "Yeah. We do other things for money, but we're pirates mostly. Those news broadcasts with traumatized survivors found drifting in lifeboats? It's not always us, but much of the time it is."

"That's what I was afraid of", Gato said, his hand resting lightly on the right control stick. "Do I have a choice?"

Isolda snorted. "We all have choices. You can refuse. If you do, chances are that Cima will space you, of course, but that's your choice to make."

"Does this fleet ever come into port?"

"Sometimes, but never until after a raid. There are lots of little islands run by crime lords out there. One of our ships specializes in running tons and tons of white powder between one of them and Side 6. Another doesn't really have a crew anymore because it's full of computer servers carrying everything from anti-Federation sites to the worst kiddie porn to the backup machines for JION.GOV. But our day to day living is provided by preying on luxury liners and freighters."

"I'm supposed to be taken to the Delaz fleet," Gato said to her.

"I've no doubt that you'll get there, especially if Cima's getting paid, which she will be since she doesn't ever work for free. But I can tell you the logic in her mercenary little head: 'I've got use of the Nightmare of Solomon. I'm going to make him make money for me.' That's how she thinks."

"I take it you're as much a prisoner of undesirable choices as I am," Gato said. "You seem that sort of person."

She nodded. "Like all of us after the war, I didn't have anyplace to go. I could have gone home I suppose, I'm from Hoeksche Waard and not Mahal, but a prison term is waiting for me there because of the awful things we did during the war. And yes, I participated in them too." Her voice filled with misery. 

"I don't see how you could have avoided it," Gato said. "You're a soldier, you followed your commander."

"You're right, but that doesn't feel like an excuse," she said. "So now I'm stuck, until something changes the situation." She gazed blankly at the floor for a while. "Well. I think we should get suited up and take these things out for a drive."

Gato hadn't been in a mobile suit since early in his relationship with Nina, when she managed to get him a clandestine ride in a captured Zaku. Now, despite the small voices of anger and disgust which he was ignoring, he felt his adrenaline start to rise even at the simple action of putting on a normal suit. Walking alongside Lt. Raake, both of them dressed as Jion pilots, brought back many memories both good and bad. 

As Gato climbed into the cockpit the ghosts of 0079 began resurfacing at a rate he hadn't expected. It had been a long time since he'd launched from a Musai; he'd spent the largest chunks of the war on Solomon and the Doroa. He looked up at the signal lights. No, he hadn't been on a ship this small since he was just out of the Academy, in a Zaku II that he'd thought was the pinnacle of engineering, and he'd been so proud to be in one. 

The light turned green and he hit the accelerator. His Gelgoog tore out of the ship, sending him back into the padding of his seat. For a second the interior of the ship flashed by, and then he was in space. 

"You're being quiet," Isolda's voice said inside of his helmet as her Gelgoog caught up to his.

Gato realized he had the controls in a deathgrip. He gazed at the screens, rapt. The eternal night of space was around him. He hadn't been able to see the stars so clearly since one single Zaku ride a year ago. "I'm in space."

"Yes. Been away from it a while?"

"Since the war ended. The moon didn't give me opportunities to break loose." He considered mentioning the Zaku flight which Nina had devised for him, but decided against it. That had begun his affair with her, and besides that, the emotions it had evoked were not to be shared with a person he'd just met. "I'd almost forgotten how beautiful it is out here."

"Well, you'll be seeing it aplenty when we're on patrol." She was silent for a moment. "Sorry. I've just gotten jaded."

"I can understand." He scanned the horizon. "I see an asteroid belt over there. I'm rusty; I could use some hide-and-seek."

"Well then, let's dance," Isolda told him, and hit her boosters, flying out in front.

***

On landing, a yeoman brought a message to Gato.

"Ms Cima hopes you had a nice afternoon. She wants to meet you on the Lili Marlene for dinner."

Isolda gave him a sympathetic look. Gato nodded.

"Tell Colonel Garahau I'll be there."

"Meet in the galley at 1730."

"Have fun," Isolda told him softly, and squeezed his arm gently as she went to change from her suit.

Things were quiet on the bridge of the Lili Marlene. The crew who had been working that watch looked as if they were getting ready to stand down for the next. Cima was reading from a comp-pad and ticking things off with a stylus. 

As Gato approached, Kosell looked at his watch, waited a moment, looked at his watch again and turned on the shipwide intercom. After a last glance at his watch he took the cord of a large brass bell and rang it.

"Eight bells, gentlemen, hand in your reports and stand down," Cima ordered. "I hope you had an interesting day, Mr. Gato?"

"Reporting as ordered, ma'am," Gato said to Cima.

She nodded. "I thought we could have dinner, seeing as it's your first night on board and all. You're a valuable addition to the fleet." She got up and led him out through the main deck.

Strange how praise from this woman struck like insults. Patience, he told himself. This woman had all the control over the situation and he'd have to at least be polite. 

"I am honoured, ma'am."

She led him to an elevator he hadn't seen before and pressed the call button."Call me Ms. Cima. Everybody else does."

"All right, as long as you recognize that I'm Commander Gato."

She stepped into the elevator. "You academy types. So stuck on ceremony. Very well, I'll call you pigeon pie if that makes you happy."

Gato hid his scowl behind her back.

The galley was loud. Aside from the usual dining-room chatter, there were a few crewmembers in the corner with a guitar, squeezebox, and fiddle, playing up a storm. The din was increased by the sound of Cima's crew calling out greetings to her that she acknowledged with a tip of her fan. 

The only thing that could have made the atmosphere worse would have been smoking, but the "No Smoking" signs were still on the walls. Dipping was obviously all right though, Gato observed with a wrinkled nose as he saw at least one crewmember spit brown juice into a cup. Cima had her own table, but it was still in plain view and shouting distance of the rest of her troops. She took her seat and placed her napkin tidily in her lap. Gato did the same. 

One of the cooks emerged with a waiter's tray and set plates in front of them. Gato looked at the food. It was some kind of stew that didn't look bad, mashed potatoes, and a side of veggies. 

Cima poured herself a glass of water. "I pride myself on being able to take care of my crews. The food's not fancy, but it's nourishing and there's enough of it. It's a struggle keeping ourselves in food, water filters and spare parts, but we manage."

"Yes. I've heard."

"Well then, you won't mind being impressed into duty for a while. Our shopping list is getting long, and we'll have to go to the store soon." She picked up her cutlery. "Go ahead, enough waiting for me."

Gato took an experimental forkful. "Not bad at all. Much better than some of the things I had to live on at war's end."

"Then you can appreciate our difficulty. We have no government to support us anymore. We kill what we eat. This is where you come in. I'm sure a fine Zum City academy graduate like yourself has trouble accepting the idea of raiding for a living."

Gato stared at her. "Of course."

"Well, I'm open to any other business plans. No one has been able to give me one, though." She picked at her mashies, which had turned out to be a potato/turnip mix. "Don't worry, Commander, we'll get you to your friend Delaz. He hasn't invited us to join in his plans beyond taking you there, so we have to be compensated somehow. Do you think you'll be able to work with Raake?"

"She seems to have the potential to be a good wingman."

"She's another non-Mahalite. She's from some Dutch colony. She grew up rich but gave it all up to join the war effort. So heroic." 

Gato pretended not to notice the sarcasm in her voice. "What inspired you to join the military, then?"

"I needed a job that wasn't construction. I don't need to pick out an outfit in the morning, and the job involved no heavy lifting. I could do without the amount of travel I've done, though."

They both jumped slightly as the crew in the galley started banging on their drinking glasses with their cutlery. "I hope they're not demanding I kiss you," Cima said.

Gato wasn't sure how to respond to that, not wanting to imply either that he was repelled by the idea of kissing her or that he wasn't. The reason for the commotion was revealed as one of her men hopped up onto his chair and announced, "Seeing as we've been gifted with a new member of the family, howsabout a round of applause for him!"

The cutlery went down and they started clapping. Gato felt his face growing hot. The noise faded as the man on the chair started singing:

Well the year was 0078

(How I wish I was on Side 3 now)

An invitation came from Zabi

To a Mahalite vessel called Lili Marlene.

God damn them all,

I was told we'd win the war and then head home,

We'd fire some guns, drink some beers,

I've had no address for two long years,

As one of Cima's privateers!

Gato glanced over at Cima, who was laughing.

The war knocked unemployment down

(How I wish I were on Side 3 now)

Signing us poor old roustabouts who

Would make for them Ms Cima's crew.

God damn them all, 

I was told we'd win the war and then head home

We'd fire some guns, drink some beers,

I've had no address for two long years,

As one of Cima's privateers!

Cima tossed her napkin aside and left her seat. One of her men linked his fingers together and she stepped onto them, letting him boost her onto the first long table.

On New Year's Day we all set sail,

(How I wish I were on Side 3 now)

The Princess Ks all proud marines 

Far from their rivets and I-beams.

Cima was obviously having a whale of a time, dancing now with another marine on the table. Gato leaned back in his seat. Well, if nothing else, it looked as if this gang of errant criminals knew how to have fun.

We've done things to make you grow pale,

(How I wish I were on Side 3 now)

Our country just threw us away,

But we'll find ourselves a home someday.

God damn them all, 

I was told we'd win the war and then head home

We'd fire some guns, drink some beers,

I've had no address for two long years,

As one of Cima's privateers!*

Cima dipped down in a courtly bow and bounced off the table and back to her seat. A cook placed fruit cobbler in front of them.

"Do you do this every night?" Gato asked.

"Ah, Seamus and the band sometimes feel like providing dinner music." She gestured to his dessert. "Take that to go. We'll talk in my office."

Cima's office was spacious, with two desks. The larger one was the one that was in use, the second probably being for a secretary Cima once had.

Cima stopped to remove her cape and gloves. She rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and dropped into the desk chair. She indicated that Gato should take the other. 

"Cognac?" she asked after a moment. 

"Yes, please."

She got up to fetch the decanter. Gato noticed the photograph on her desk. It was of Kishiria Zabi in evening clothes with a crown atop her red hair. She was standing beside Cima, who was dressed in a formal Earth Attack uniform.

"Ah. I escorted her to a formal ball, once," Cima said. She placed a cut-glass tumbler in front of him. 

"I know that she was usually friends with her subordinates," Gato said. 

"Yes, like Aznable and Ridden. She liked having a female officer in her command, though. The fleet was set up in a completely ass-backward way, and Deitrov--Mr. Kosell--smelled a rat from the beginning. She was my commander, but my boss, Colonel Asakura, was under Giren." She shook her head. "Made no sense, and no good came of it." She sat down heavily in her chair and crossed her legs. "So what about you? I know you were Dozel's man once, and now you're headed out to work with the Ghost of Giren Zabi."

Gato took a sip of the cognac, which was excellent. "I don't really think it matters anymore. They're all dead."

"That they are. That they are." She sat quietly with her drink for a moment. "We were all glorious morons, weren't we? I suppose that's why it's so hard to give it up. Princes, princesses, noble causes…it's like we're addicted to a fairy tale."

"Fairy tales don't end like this," Gato said.

"They don't, because they aren't real," Cima agreed, undoing her collar and unzipping her shirt to the collarbone. "Real is exile on these eight hunks of metal, committing crimes and yet having people sing songs about it." She grinned at him. "I'm not shitting you. We were out on Lindsay's Quay not long ago, and someone actually had written a song about our exploits. We're criminals for god's sake!" She snorted. "Humans. I'll never understand them." She took a swallow from her glass and said, "So I'll keep this simple. I think you're a very attractive man and I'd like to sleep with you."

Gato coughed on his mouthful of cognac. Cima was smiling at him, unaware that the lighting in the room was accentuating the fine lines around her mouth and eyes. 

"Um--I--that's a very generous offer--ah--Colonel, but I think I'm going to have to decline. I just got out of a bad relationship."

She looked puzzled. "I never mentioned a relationship. I'm just looking for sex. There's not much else to do around this place."

"I'm afraid you'll have to look for your entertainment elsewhere," Gato told her, putting his glass down and standing. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, but it's been a long day and I'm very tired."

He left without another word, knowing he'd just brought the axe down upon his own neck. In fact, the first strike of it arrived just as he rounded the corner.

Gato was suddenly yanked off his feet and his face slammed into the bulkhead. Before he could do anything but yell in pain, a gravelly voice told him, "You fucking better not have taken her up on her offer."

Gato gasped, "If you mean the pass she made at me, no."

The hands holding him backed him away from the bulkhead for a second, then slammed him into it again. "That better not be a backwards way of insulting her, either."

"For the love of---!" Gato managed to turn his head enough to look up with one eye at Kosell. "She is NOT MY TYPE, all right? She's too wild for me. She'd break me in half. Take a pill, Mr. Kosell. She's all yours."

Kosell let him go. Gato hadn't realized he'd been held off the floor until his feet touched the deck and gave out under him.

"Well….all right then," said Kosell, and he disappeared in the direction of Cima's quarters.

Gato's nose was still bleeding and he was still trying to stanch it with tissues as he walked down his hallway on the Vera Lynn. As luck would have it, Isolda Raake was walking down the same hall in her bathrobe with a towel over her arm as he did.

"Gato!" she exclaimed. "You look like you ran into a wall. Or rather, the wall ran into you." She handed him her still-damp towel.

"Mr. Kosell appears to be rather jealous," he said nasally into the terrycloth. The towel smelled nice, of shampoo and her clean hair.

"Sorry. That was an inside joke of mine. 'Kosell' means 'wall' in Hebrew, I've heard. Come on, I've got some cold cans of soda in my cabin."

Application of a can of generic cola stopped the nosebleed and helped minimize the swelling. Isolda stepped into the half-bath that was part of an officer's quarters to dress again, then sat down on the bed. Her cabin was tidy but lived-in, with a desk covered in mementos, a locker, and the bed made up neatly despite the shabbiness of the covers

"A brief tutorial on Cima Fleet," she said. "Each ship does have its own rules, of course. Captain Rosco is an excellent commander. This ship runs like any other Jion vessel, only we don't have any higher authority than Cima and we don't wear our uniforms. Behave as the Jion officer and gentleman you are, and you'll do fine with Captain Rosco. 

"Now, as for dealing with the Lili, that's obviously somewhat different. Treat them as a pack of wolves. Cima is alpha bitch. Kosell is alpha dog. Like any alpha bitch, Cima sometimes starts sniffing around for new mates. I don't think she really wants to replace Kosell, simply because she trusts him. They were together at Iffish Island, you see. That bonded them for good, but I think she just isn't monogamous. She's had flings on the sly, but when Kosell smells competition, he attacks. And you, Lt. Commander, are most definitely competition."

Gato started to grin, then winced. "Ow. Don't make me smile."

"All right, I'll make you stop. Dead puppies. Think about dead puppies."

"How about the idea of me as executive officer of this traveling circus? No thank you."

"Well, maybe she just wanted your body. I'm just saying that you're the sort who would come across as a threat to Kosell. However, you reacted like a beta, not that you are, but it probably saved your life."

Gato shook his head, then looked at the can in his hand. "May I drink this?"

"You've bled on it. It's yours."

"I just know that you must have a limited stock."

"I'm sure we'll be restocking soon." Her playful expression faded to blankness. "Anyway, we should probably both turn in. We've got second watch tomorrow."

"Then I will see you later, Lt. Raake. It's been nice meeting you."

"Likewise," she said, smiling a little. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The next two days were very routine. Gato and Raake flew patrols and did maintenance. On the third day, though, they and the other pilots were called to the briefing room by Captain Rosco. The mistress of the Vera greeted them from in front of a large viewscreen.

"No patrol today, gentlemen and ladies. We've got a fat passenger ship coming up from Earth itself. It's payday." She turned on the screen. Gato felt his mouth go dry and looked over at Isolda, whose eyes were focused on her lap. After a moment, she turned her gaze to him.

"You didn't think you were going to get off easy, did you?" she asked.

"One can always hope," he murmured.

"Give up that idea right now," she told him, and gestured for him to be quiet so they could be briefed.

…To be continued.

…For HDS. Come home soon. Come home safe.

 

*Great apologies to the late Stan Rogers, whose "Barrett's Privateers" is a surefire way to get a barful of Canadians jigging.


	2. Chapter 2

Gato squirmed in his flight suit and tried not to look at his wingman. He didn't want anyone to think that he was looking to Isolda Raake for reassurance.

Captain Rosco was dressed not in her usual bohemian outfit but in Earth Attack khaki, complete with velvet cape and panels. Her assistant was dressed the same.

"At ease." After they had sat down, she stood behind the podium.

"We're approaching the path of a passenger liner registered out of Republic of Jion. The good ship River Nile is listed as carrying 1000 passengers, with ample supplies for two weeks. That's not a lot, obviously, but it should be enough to restock the Lili, the Vera and the Bettie for about a month. I'm sure you've all noticed that the water is starting to smell; hitting them up for water filters will be highest priority. Operational orders are as follows."

She turned on the viewscreen behind her. A photograph of a passenger ship appeared.

"While piracy has been a concern on the Federation’s plate, they're still not at the point where they are hesitant to send out civilian vessels without escort. There'll be a sergeant at arms of course, and a small security force, but nothing we can't handle. Cima tells me that passenger liners are not going to become our new standard targets, because she doesn't want the Federation coming after us like the wrath of God. So this attack is going to be a one-time only thing. 

"The procedure will be similar to the other raids we've done. Gato, Raake, Friesen, Nava, you four will be part of the force that'll surround the ship itself. That should bring them to a standstill. Gato and Raake, your job, once the ship is stopped, will be to stand your Gelgoogs with weapons drawn on top of the ship, pointing said weapons into the bridge. Captain Doherty. Your Marines will follow for boarding. All crew and passengers will be taken to the ship's ballroom while we commandeer our supplies.

"Now. I have been asked to remind you that we're to be on our absolute best behaviour. Not only are we to refrain from excessive force, but force of any sort if possible. That being said, the usual threat to any would-be heroes applies. However, for this job, we are not to touch the passengers' belongings, no matter how tempting. We take the supplies, any objects we need which belong to the cruise line itself. So Aunt Emma's pearls are forbidden, but the grandfather clock on the Grand Staircase is fair game if one of you weirdoes takes a liking to it and can figure out a way to get it back in here."

There was some nervous laughter in the room. Gato just swallowed deeply.

"There's the plan. Everyone suit up; we'll be in position to start this in," Rosco looked at her watch, "30 minutes. Synchronize watches; it is now 1102, mark. Good luck, ladies and gentlemen!"

Gato and Raake went down to the mobile suit bay and suited up. As he fastened the seals of his helmet, Gato wished he had a moment to comment to Isolda how strange this felt. Putting on a normal suit and getting into a Gelgoog was like breathing. Piloting was life and he had no idea how he would endure if he, like Kelly, ever lost the ability to do it. What made the feeling strange was that knowing he was about to do it to commit a felony in deep space almost didn't bother him. The naturalness of being inside that Gelgoog outweighed that knowledge.

He took a very short moment to wonder what that said about him as he floated into the bay itself, then dismissed the question until later. Isolda surprised him by slipping her arm around his waist and touching her helmet to his.

"Just follow my lead and listen to my instructions. Everything's going to be all right."

"I trust you," he told her. Isolda gave him a squeeze and let him go.

The four mobile suits sailed quietly through space. As per Isolda's orders, Gato had his communications systems set to hear both his team and orders from the Lili Marlene. That was mostly quiet. After about an hour, Isolda said, "There it is. Okay, weapons out, let's show them we mean business." Her tone of voice changed as she spoke into the other channel. "Lt. Kosell! You want us to cripple the ship at all?"

Kosell's voice responded, "Negative. Give them a few shot over the bow, but Ms Cima doesn't want it damaged."

"Understood. All right then. Let's just fly straight at it, weapons out. Gato, like Captain Rosco said, we stand pointing the weapons right into the bridge. Friesen, you take starboard, Nava, you take port, fly flanking the ship until it comes to a complete stop."

Gato could imagine the shock on the bridge of the River Nile as four mobile suits of an allegedly dead country came into view. The thought of their fear brought a smile to his face. The Republic of Jion was the Federation's bitch, and no friend of his.

His Gelgoog's feet landed with a satisfying thump on the skin of the cruise ship and he engaged the magnets to keep it in place. He and Isolda brought up their suits' rifles and pointed them into the bridge as they had been told. He could see the crew running around inside and pointing at them in terror.

Cima's voice broadcast itself into his helmet. "This is Captain Cima Garahau. You will shut down your engines and step away from the helm. We will board your vessel. Please order your crew to cooperate with all of our orders, deliver all goods we request, and no one gets hurt."  
The liner captain responded, "Captain Garahau, this is an unarmed civilian ship. On behalf of passengers and crew, I'm offering myself as a hostage."

"That's very generous of you, but it's not what we want and need. My request stands. Please have your passengers gather their belongings and go to the ballroom. Have your security detachment meet us unarmed on the bridge."

It took a few minutes to bring the ship to a halt, after which the boarding craft from the Lili,Vera, and Bettie took turns hooking up to the liner and unloading their crews of Marines. 

"Switch on the internal camera, channel 5," Raake ordered.

Gato did so and found that he had a view on one of his screens of what was happening on the ship. "Gordy-cam," Isolda explained. "Lets us know if we have to open fire--"

Gato cut her off. "Their clothes!"

The ragged crew of the Lili and the civilian clothes of the Vera and Bettie were gone. Every man and woman boarding the ship was clad in clean, pressed Jion uniforms complete with velvet, leather, and gleaming helmets. 

"Oh yes," Isolda said. "Raids like this are why we all keep one uniform ready for action. We don't want to appear like ruffians. We're Jions, after all. Don't let that distract you, Anavel. Keep your eyes on that bridge."

It seemed clear that this wasn't going to be an exciting assignment. On his other screens, Gato could see the passengers being herded down the corridors, dragging suitcases, carrying bags, and not putting up any resistance.

About another half hour later, Cima herself made an appearance. Like the rest of her crew, she'd put aside her customized uniform and cloak for the khaki brown of Kishiria's forces. Gato could see why she'd chosen the custom-uniform option; the standard colour didn't suit her at all. 

He turned his attention to the "Gordy-cam". Two crewmen, accompanied by the heavily-armed Marines, were going down the halls, opening storage closets and dumping in the contents. Suddenly Isolda said, "Gordy? Do me a big favour and get me a blanket, would you?"

Gordon's voice came back, "Isolda, honey, I'll get you two. Anything else?"

"Toothpaste."

"Teg's crew is doing the shopping promenade, but I'll set some aside when I meet up with him."

Gato said to Isolda, "You've got him well trained."

"We're old friends. I'll introduce him later. You want anything?"

Stolen goods? Gato would do without. "I'm fine."

"Okay, but when you run out of deodorant, don't ask to use mine."

About an hour later, the camera view entered the kitchens. The staff was already in a terrified huddle against one wall as the raiding team entered, pushing large canvas laundry trolleys in front of them. They lined up the trolleys and the aforementioned "Teg" pointed to the refrigerators.

"Okay, Gaylord McFaggot and the Fag-Fag Bunch, open 'em up!"

One of the cooks ran forward to do just that. Gato couldn't see what was inside from his screen, but he could tell it must be something desirable judging by the speed at which the raiders pushed their trolleys in. Nothing happened for about five minutes, so Gato divided his attention in seconds-long increments between watching the bridge, and checking in on the ballroom and raiding crews. 

One of the kitchen staff asked, "Wh-what are we going to do for food?"

"You got the emergency rations," Teg barked. "People don't need to eat this much crap when they're on vacation. Makes 'em fat! We're doing you a favour; you won't have to cook so much."

Suddenly, one of the chef's assistants sprang out with a knife. He lurched forward with it high in the air, but caught himself on a countertop. Teg pulled out a sidearm and shot him in the head.

He shook his head sadly. "Always gotta be one heroic asshole in the bunch. Anybody wanna join him?" On seeing the terrified faces and the closer huddle across from him, Teg said, "Thought not."

Up in his mobile suit, Gato swallowed deeply, not that he could blame Teg for what he'd done. His estimation of the danger of this crew rose appreciably, though. 

The rest of the raid went off as planned. At the very end, Cima ordered, "Take the crew and passengers and load them onto the lifeboats."

Kosell asked her, "Shall I set the charges, ma'am?"

"No. Not this time. Not yet. Get a skeleton crew together from our own fleet. We're going to tow this thing a while."

"Aye aye, ma'am," Kosell responded.

What the hell? Gato thought to himself.

Within another hour and a half, the River Nile had been emptied. Gato watched as Marines herded the bridge crew out at gunpoint. Finally, he, Isolda, and their companions were given the order to stand down. Some Marines he didn't know took the helm of the cruise ship and the other two suits were sent to make sure the lifeboats got started on their way towards the nearest populated area. Soon Gato and Isolda were parking and going in for debriefing on the Vera Lynn. After that, Isolda said she was going to the gym and Gato offered to join her.

"I spend a lot of time here," she said as they walked into the circuit room. She looked very fetching in form-fitting workout tights and a tank top. Gato felt self-conscious in his baggy shorts and t-shirt. "It's about the most healthy addiction I could come up with for passing the endless hours on this tub."

"Believe me, it's paid off," Gato assured her, watching her adjust the seat on the shoulder press.

"That's what we keep telling her, but she just ignores us," said a familiar voice. Gato looked over his shoulder to find Teg, revealed now to be a bodybuilding type with the scales of justice incongruously tattooed on one arm, and Gordy standing there. Gato immediately tensed for a fight, but Isolda was smiling at them.

"Hello, boys," she said, starting to press the weights. "Thanks for the blankets. They're the thermal ones that fit around you when you sleep. I'm going to be comfy tonight." She finished her set and looked up at Gato. "Want to work in, or should I do the next set?"

Gato had rather enjoyed watching her, so he said. "You go on ahead." He looked at Teg and Gordy. "Has anyone explained why we're dragging that cruise ship along with us? Gordy, you seem to be in the loop, do you know?"

He shook his head. "Even Kosell was surprised by that. You gotta realize, Cima's---" he glanced over his shoulder quickly, "a nut. Now that's kinda good; if she hadn't gone crazy we wouldn't be surviving the way we have. She might have given up and taken us all back to Side 3 where you know what would have happened." Gordy pantomimed putting a noose around his own head, tightening it, and stuck his tongue out. "All I know is this; from watching her work these past couple of years, what probably happened is she saw the ship and got a sudden brainstorm. She'll tell us why she took it in her own sweet time."

The four of them worked out for a couple of hours, after which they all went their separate ways. As they came out into their own deck, Isolda said to Gato, "Come with me for a second. I got something for you."

She opened the door to her cabin and Gato saw that the stolen blankets were already neatly folded at the foot of her bunk. 

"It's very tragic to me that a Jion officer has to be reduced to using stolen goods," he said.

Isolda's head snapped around. "Are you judging me, Anavel Gato?"

"I--"

"Where else am I going to get supplies? I can't just hit a department store anymore; that's all gone for me. So what was I going to do? I'm COLD!"

Gato sighed. "True. I apologize. What was it you wanted to show me?"

"Never mind," Isolda snapped, and shut the door in his face.

***

"Ow."

Gato applied a tiny bit of toilet paper to his face. He rinsed his razor again and brought it along his jawline.

"Ow!" He grabbed another and blotted some more blood. He managed not to slice his right cheek, but the left was another story.

"Ow! Dammit!" Gato yanked his hand towel off the wall and held it to his face. He felt his blood pressure go up. For the past three days, Isolda hadn't said a word to him. This had been facilitated by their being given two days off, two days which, for Gato, had been lonely and tedious. His irritation at that was compounded by the fact that he knew Isolda had every right to be furious at him. Now, he was going to have to face her showing the result of his refusal to take any stolen property.

Not that it was possible to avoid it, in the long run. His toilet paper had been replenished when he needed it, and the fruit at dinner the night before had been fresh, not canned. He felt stupid, and Gato liked few things less than feeling stupid.

Breakfast was a bagel that would have been stale by that evening and a cup of coffee that tasted as if they hadn't yet dipped into the supply from the cruise ship. That vessel was still tagging along silently behind the Cima fleet. He stopped to look at it through a porthole, shook his head, and proceeded down to the mobile suit hangar.

Isolda was already suiting up. She glanced at him, then turned her back as she drew her normal suit on over the coverall beneath. Gato grunted. She'd have to talk to him eventually; it wasn't as if they could pilot together by telepathy.

The officer of the watch came up to them with a clipboard. "Raake, Gato. Cima wants to see you in her office on the Lili. Just take your suits over. There's room for you to dock over there."

They still didn't speak on the minutes-long trip into the flagship beyond the words necessary to dock. They landed and took the elevator up to the top deck. The last time Gato had been down this corridor, Kosell had been beating him up. He had a nervous feeling that something similar was in store.

Cima was at her desk, with her gloves and cloak lying on top of the spare desk. She acknowledged their salute, and gestured for them to sit. Gato couldn't help but notice the delicate gold chain that adorned one of her wrists. It seemed very out of place on such a rugged woman, and he drew the immediate conclusion that it had been a gift. His mind immediately drifted to the almost bizarre idea that someone could actually love Cima Garahau enough to give her a present of jewelry.

"I'm concerned about you two," she said to them. "I've heard the two of you had a disagreement and aren't speaking."

"Who told you that?" Gato asked, wondering who was spying on them.

Cima smiled, almost benevolently. "Gato my dear, this fleet is a very small community and we have way too much time on our hands. People gossip. The rumour I heard is that you two are having a lovers' quarrel, with variations saying that you're avoiding each other or that you had an out and out donnybrook in the gym. I know that one isn't true; a fight like that would definitely have gotten back to me, via Captain Rosco, who doesn't put up with that kind of nonsense, at all. So. What's really going on?"

Isolda glanced at him before answering, "He said something that offended me and I haven't wanted to talk to him since."

Cima leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands. "Ooh. The silent treatment. A perennial favourite for putting a friend who’s offended you back in their place. What are you, twelve?" She turned her attention to Gato. "What did you say to her? Or did you just steal her lunch money and I'm going to have to spank you?"

Gato swallowed. "I said something stupid and judgmental. Lt. Raake has every right to be angry with me."

"Did you apologize?"

"I tried to."

"I didn't accept it at the time," Isolda said.

"Do you now?"

"If he means it," Isolda answered.

"I am sorry for saying what I did," Gato told her. "I do mean that. I was wrong."

"All right. Apology accepted."

"Now isn't that better?" Cima asked. "You can kiss and make up now."

"We…don't have that kind of friendship," Isolda said.

"Oh well. Sucks to be you, then." Cima grinned nastily at Gato, who had the sudden urge to run off and bathe. "So, no harm, no foul. I've got a team-building exercise for you two." She reached into a file on her desk and slid a chart to both of them. It showed a large asteroid which was obviously fitted for human habitation. "Corona Island. It's an old laboratory base from the One Year War where the Feddies, bless their little hearts, were working on their own toxic gases. There was an awful accident in November of 0079 and all there were killed. It's been restricted ever since, as you can imagine, and no one is in a big hurry to visit it anyway. Except us and Big Snowman Dade's people."

"Who's Big Snowman Dade?" Gato asked.

"He's a major drug producer out of the wreckage of Side Four. He drops off at Corona and we intercept the goods and take them to Saba Island near Side One. That's where you come in. Dade's own security is pretty good, so he doesn't need us as escort, which is what you were probably expecting. His people work fast, darting in, making the drop, and getting out without being seen."

"So his base must be nearby," Gato surmised.

"Probably. I've never asked, although I'll find out one of these days. Not right now, though, I've got other things on my plate. Your job is to grab the merchandise and bring it here so we can make the delivery. Since Corona is off limits because it's dangerous and full of interesting information that shouldn't fall into the wrong hands, it gets patrolled once in a while, though not on any sort of schedule. You might be able to just go in, pick up the stuff, and come back without incident. On the other hand, you might run into the patrol and have to fight your way back. It's a crap shoot."

"Why don't they just destroy the island?" Isolda asked.

"They don't want what's on Corona to fall into the wrong hands. Their hands wouldn't be the wrong ones, I suppose." She pointed to the charts. "Here's what you need to know about getting to Corona."

Afterwards, the two pilots were quiet in the elevator. Finally, Gato said, "I meant that apology. I was not a gentleman."

Isolda didn't look at him, but she reached out and squeezed his gloved fingers. "It's all right. You're not used to this." She finally raised her green eyes to his face. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. Teg and Gordy seem pleasant enough, but so far, you're the closest thing I have to a friend here."

She squeezed his fingers again and they got off on the mobile suit deck.

The flight to Corona was equally quiet. Gato put himself into the mode he always did before battle, playing classical music in his cockpit and conserving his energy. Not that there was any sure knowledge the enemy would engage them. From what Cima said, it seemed probable that this would be a milk run. Unless she had lied, but Gato reasoned that even if he and Isolda were disposable, the Gelgoogs were not.

The space around them was messy, which was probably another reason Big Snowman Dade used it for his drug transfers. Instead of nice, open space through which the Federation could send even the smallest patrol vessel, the area was scattered liberally with ship and colony debris. 

A light started blinking on the screen in front of him as an alarm sounded. "I've got the signal from the package. It's on the other side of the asteroid."

"Okay. Which of us should carry it and which of us should fly escort?"

"Let's check out the size of this package first."

"Okay."

They flew over top of the asteroid. Gato watched it through his viewscreens, looking at the dark windows. He shuddered a bit, thinking of the deceased occupants within, dead on their own poisons. Ironic that they should be picking up a load of a different, equally illegal and poisonous substance from this place.

"That's not too bad," Isolda said on seeing the parcel. It was about three meters long, wrapped in white plastic, with a small flashing beacon at one end, which was the source of the signal Gato was reading.

"Okay. I think I should be the one to carry it," Gato told her. "I've got a better chance of defending myself one-handed."

"You sure?"

He smiled inside his helmet. "You said it yourself. I have a combat nickname, you don't, and I didn't become the Nightmare for nothing."

"If I'm carrying it, you could defend me."

Gato considered. "No, I'd really rather be the one-armed one. I wouldn’t need that much defending.”

"Be my guest, then."

Gato reached down and disabled the beacon. He freed the package from its restraints and let it float up to under his Gelgoog's arm. "I've got it. Let's go."

The two Gelgoogs flew over top of the asteroid and headed towards the coordinates given them for the Bettie. They had only been in flight for ten or so minutes when Isolda exclaimed, "Look out! One o'clock, we've got company."

Gato checked his radar and looked in that direction. "I can't see what they are yet, but we have to assume they're hostile."

Isolda drew her beam rifle. "Roger that. Let's try to avoid."

"This package is hurting my maneuverability," Gato said, producing his own rifle.

"You sure you don't want me to be the mule?"

"I told you, I'm sure."

A moment later, Isolda said, "I've got a visual. Six standard GMs. We have to keep them away from the fleet. They're probably the patrol Cima warned us about, but they're heading right for it."

"Six GMs against the Cima fleet? The Feddies'll be completely unprepared for that."

"But if one escapes, we've given away too much information about ourselves," Isolda pointed out, vocalizing the thought that had crossed Gato's mind the moment after he'd spoken. 

"They’ll have to be eradicated,” Gato said to her flatly.

"Do you think we can take them?"

"Might be a little bit of a challenge," Gato said. "I've always thought I could still fight well with one hand tied behind my back.”

"You're such an asshole," Isolda told him, but it wasn't in a mean way. 

"Radio ahead to the fleet. We'll try to hit the Feddies from the side before they get there."

Gato accelerated his Gelgoog, angling himself so that his weapon was forward and he was protecting the package behind the profile of his machine. He and Isolda didn't have signal flares, which was unfortunate. While on one hand it would take away the element of surprise, the sight of Jion attack flares would be enough to make at least a few of the Feddies soil themselves. Bad memories for some, and the prospect of being attacked by ghosts for the others. The thought of that made him chuckle.

Isolda was right there by his flank. They closed on the GMs using debris for cover, darting between chunks of colony cylinder, each hop bringing them closer and closer. They paused inside the curve of one, where Gato reached out to touch the arm of Isolda’s Gelgoog to insure they wouldn’t be overheard.

“When I say so, we come out of here firing, okay?”

“Roger.”

Gato turned the head of his Gelgoog slowly until he could see space through a hole. There were the GMs, cruising along unsuspectingly. Probably feeling secure from anything but enraged drug dealers. Well, it was time to snap them out of their complacency.

“Now.”

The first burst of fire from Isolda hit the cockpit of one directly and the resulting explosion flung its wingmen to either side. With a cry, Gato launched his Gelgoog forward, firing. They were in close range, where GMs performed best, and he wished he could use his sabres. 

The Feddie pilots removed their own advantage. Gato grinned as they did exactly what he wanted them to, retreating as fast as they could, widening the distance. He took off after them. Isolda was likewise in pursuit, trying to target another victim. Gato aimed again, gazing down at his target screen, maneuvering to get another one into the crosshairs.

His target swerved to avoid some debris and went right where Gato needed him. His thumb depressed the trigger and a second GM exploded in front of him.

The four GMs closed formation and turned. They were slowing down as well, likely trying to bring the Gelgoogs in close By now they were probably trying to call for help, though Minovsky interference might make that impossible. They’d have to assume that the Feddies were successful though, which meant Gato and Isolda would have to work fast. 

Isolda drew her sabres and went after the GM nearest her. Gato regretted not letting her carry the parcel; she was right, it would have been better for him to have both hands free. Perhaps she’d be perfectly capable of this kind of attack, but there was only way he’d find out now.

A flash of light went past his port side and Gato realized he was facing forward, not flying on an angle the way he had started. One of the GMs was now targeting his cargo. He turned, narrowing his profile again, and dodged more fire, returning some of his own. He glanced over to see Isolda dueling, using her short-range weapons within the GM’s comfort zone. The Feddie pilot wasn’t bad, though, and was holding out against her.

One of the Feddie pilots realized that this meant Isolda was distracted. Gato watched as the GM’s rifle went up. Snarling, Gato aimed at that mobile suit. The GM fired, but Isolda dodged and it missed. The sabre wielded by the suit she’d been fighting scored a blow on her Gelgoog, though, leaving a black scar across the paint. Gato concentrated on his target, drew a bead, and fired. At the same time, Isolda threw her Gelgoog forward, slicing downward into her opponent’s shoulder, cutting the GM diagonally through the torso. She turned and fled the resulting explosion. 

Something floated past Gato’s main view. It was dust of some sort. With a gasp of horror and a wrench in his stomach, he realized the package he was carrying was leaking. He turned his side cameras to look at it and discovered a small tear in the plastic wrapping. While the wrapping was certainly tough enough to withstand any normal abuse, a space battle in a field of refuse was likely never in the manufacturer’s intent.

He’d have to get out and repair it, and that meant leaving Isolda on her own. He turned on his radio, hoping for the best.

“Isolda!” Gato waited a second then called out again, “Isolda!”

Her voice came back weakly, “Commander?’

“The package is damaged.”

“Fix it! Don’t think about me!”

“Try to hide until I’m back there.”

“Roger.”

He couldn’t afford another thought on how Isolda would handle this two-on-one battle. Gato opened his cockpit and floated around to the package. The tear was about a foot long, but the contents were packed tightly enough that they weren’t pouring out like water. He grabbed the normal suit patching material from his belt and slapped it on over the cut. The package was still softer than he would have liked, but at least it was still there.

A flash of fire went over his head and he looked over to see that Isolda was behind an asteroid, trading fire with her opponents like a gunfighter behind a wall. Gato jumped back into his cockpit and looked around. He saw the gutted inside of a ship nearby, reminding him of nothing so much as the cleaned body of a calamari. He was about to put the package inside when he realized that sharp edges might cause more damage to the wrapping. He really had no choice but to keep fighting the way he had been. Close range was out of the question for him, but for his wingman….

Gato propped the package against a different piece of debris long enough to reload. He picked it up again and started firing on Isolda’s opponents, drawing their attention. Isolda dove underneath the asteroid and came “up” from “beneath” the GMs She even surprised Gato, who had to yank his hand away from the trigger to keep from hitting her as she buried one of her sabers deeply into the torso of the GM nearest her. 

Gato hit the accelerator. “Give up all hope NOW!” he shouted to the last GM, which was fleeing for its life. Isolda was closer, but the GM was showing the pilot’s frenzy of terror in its movements, his erratic path making it hard for her to target it. Gato sped on, gaining on her despite the obstacles in his path. He reached Isolda’s side and they both aimed their weapons at the same time. The GM turned for a desperate last stand, but his nervous shooting could not even delay the inevitable. Gato and Isolda both fired, and were never sure which one of them hit first.

***

Gato slid the package into the hold of the Vera and joined Isolda. She was waiting for him in the mobile suit hangar, already drinking from a bulb of water. She handed another to him and said, “Good job, Commander.”

“I let the cargo get damaged.”

“I took a gash to my ‘goog’s torso. The Chief says he can fill it, but it’s a sign of how close I came.” 

Gato pulled off his helmet, and took a few deep swallows of water. “You’re all right and the suit’s still usable. That’s all that matters.”

“I agree. I think the two of you did well. I’m glad to see my little exercise worked out.”

Cima was standing behind them, smiling. 

“Colonel Garahau. I apologize for not getting the package here intact,” Gato told her.

Cima shrugged. “It’s not as if the load’s a little light because you were snacking on it. This is just the cost of doing business. I wanted to congratulate the two of you. You did brilliantly against that Feddie patrol. Dade won’t be able to use that asteroid as a drop point anymore, but the Feddies had obviously had suspicions about it for a long time. He’s told me he’s going to blow it up, and I told him great. Good riddance to it.” 

“He’ll have to find another island,” Isolda said.

“Space is large and demand for drugs is larger. He’ll manage. Anyway, Gato, we’ll make a felon of you yet. Oh wait. We already have!”

Gato turned his back to her, leaning on the railing overlooking the hangar. “I did what I had to do to to survive.”

“And you did it wonderfully. Second servings on dinner for the both of you.” Cima hopped off the railing and floated downward to the deck on another errand.

Gato and Isolda got onto the elevator. “Don’t let it get to you,” Isolda told him. “For you, it’ll end. In the meantime, we’ll probably be pulling into port soon, and there’ll be a little money in our pockets.”

They exited onto their corridor and paused at the doorway of Gato’s cabin. “I don’t know what to think about this,” he said to Isolda.

“About what?”

“What we did was despicable. I know those drugs will end up in the streets of the Federation, but that’s still something I wouldn’t wish on them.”

“I can tell there’s a ‘but’ coming,” Isolda said.

“But being back in battle again….I can’t even begin to tell you how good that felt. My adrenaline is back. I feel alive, and I didn’t even realize I felt dead.” He looked at her. “You’re a good pilot. You do deserve a combat nickname.”

She chuckled. “Well, I’ll leave you to think about it. Oh. Before you shower, I have one thing for you. Come with me.”

Gato followed her into her cabin. She opened her desk and took out a box.

“Electric razor,” she told him. “I got the gel for it too. I figured, you thought you’d only be with us for a few weeks before we gave you to Delaz. You probably only brought disposable razors.” She touched his scabbed cheek. “I can tell I was right. So I had the boys get one of these for you when they were on the shopping promenade of the cruise ship.”

Gato looked down at the box in his hands. “Thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful.”

“Someone had to look out for you.” She patted his shoulder and went into her cabin. Gato returned to his own, thinking of nicknames.


End file.
